


If you’re still breathing

by Katfish_1967



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katfish_1967/pseuds/Katfish_1967
Summary: Grantaire is left alone, and tries to struggle through life now his guide is gone





	If you’re still breathing

_Shadows settle on the place,_

_that you left_

_Our minds are troubled_

_by the emptiness_

 

Grantaire swirled the glass around, watch as the water splashed against the sides. Heaving a deep sigh, he lifted the water to his lips and took a sip, just enough to grant his sleeping pills a smooth journey.

 

Curling up on his side, cup back on its coaster on his drawers, he reached out for another person, and tried to ignore the dull stabbing pain when his hand was met with more darkness and empty space.

 

_Well I've lost it all,_

_I'm just a silouhette_

_A lifeless face that_

_you'll soon forget_

 

Grantaire had hoped, after a few weeks, that it would become easier. That the world he once studied, determined to capture its essence in every stroke of acrylic across canvas, would go back to how it was before. Bright and lively, bustling with an energy that only comes from the success of humanity.

 

Now it’s bleak and dull, a mere shadow of the splendour it used to have. Grantaire pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, and pointedly ignores the cafe he’d spent so much time in, trying to pretend that the laughter from the inside didn’t cause a similar stabbing pain to when he thinks of his bed, and how cold it is now there isn’t someone next to him.

 

_And if you're in love,_

_then you are the lucky one_

_'Cause most of us_

_are bitter over someone_

 

He still went to the rallies, still showed his support, because even if he didn’t believe in the cause, he believed in him. Even if the other had turned him away.

 

Grantaire and Enjolras hada tendency to attack everything the way they attacked the cause - Grantaire with cynicism and disinterest and Enjolras with naivety and passion. This meant for fiery arguments and deadly silences, their shared stubbornness stopping them from conceding a point.

 

In the end, it had been Enjolras who broke things off, because no matter how much Grantaire believed he was right, it would always pale in comparison to how much he loved Enjolras. It was after a particularly bad argument, Grantaire was crying and Enjolras was packing a bag, saying he needed a few days to calm down away from him. Grantaire tried to stop him leaving, begging and pleading with him to stay. Enjolras brushed it all off, and pushed past him, grabbing his keys and his phone from the cabinet on his way. Grantaire watched as he opened the door, trying one last timewith a whispered confession, three words that made Enjolras pause. He turned to Grantaire, tear tracks staining both of their faces, and reassured him that he’d only be gone three days at most, before walking out of the door.

 

That had been a month and a half ago, and Grantaire had given up hope of Enjolras returning like he said. Instead, he focused on his art, tried to produce something that made him happy, but it was all Enjolras. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of Enjolras and it hurt. This is where they built their life together, and it stung to think of it as his not theirs.

 

_To distract our hearts_

_from ever missing them_

_But I'm forever missing him_

 

Grantaire struggled to keep the rent up by himself. It was a large apartment and all his money came from the commissions he did in his spare time, when he wasn’t studying.

 

He hadn’t had a warm shower in three days, as the heating had turned off on Monday due to Grantaire falling behind in the payments. He was hungry and cold but keeping this house was the most important thing to Grantaire. How else would Enjolras know where to find him if he returned?

 

Despite his cynical nature, Grantaire believed in Enjolras. He believed he would come home. Grantaire couldn’t even remember what the argument was about. He just wanted Enjolras home.

 

_Destroy the middle,_

_it's a waste of time_

_From the perfect start_

_to the finish line_

 

Enjolras noticed Grantaire’s disappearance at their meetings, how could he not? This had all blown massively out of proportion and Enjolras was too scared to set it right. Who in their right mind would take him back after he’s behaved like this?

 

After one such meeting, Enjolras took a detour in the way back to Combeferre’s. He went by their house and decided to pay a small visit. Maybe he could fix what he destroyed.

 

The lights were off and the entire house was freezing. Enjolras tried to turn the heaters on but the wouldn’t work. He went into the kitchen, and tried to put the kettle on, but it wouldn’t turn on. The cupboards were bare, the fridge empty, and Enjolras felt dread pooling in his stomach. Had Grantaire left? Had he gotten tired of waiting for Enjolras to pull his head out of his ass? Was he dead?

 

These thoughts continued swirling, reaching a crescendo until they stopped, mind becoming silent at the sound of a key turning in the lock.

 

Enjolras tried to make himself look busy, but with no electricity or food there was little to occupy him. Instead he poured a glass of water, thankful that at least the water hadn’t been switched off as well.

 

He heard Grantaire enter the kitchen, back towards the door, trying to come up with a valuable reason as to why he had broken into Grantaire’s house, despite the fact it was also his. Well, it was ‘his’ but really, Enjolras thinks this was revoked when he walked out over a month ago.

 

He heard an intake of breath, and steeled himself for the anger, but all he got was a relieved sigh and a pair of arms wrapping around his waist. A head dropped onto his shoulder and words were muttered into the skin of his collar bone, the small “I missed you”s and “I’m glad you’re here”s getting lost in the material of his jumper. Enjolras brought a hand up to the mess of dark curls and ran it through them, closing his eyes at the feeling of being held.

 

“I’m glad I’m here too. I’m so sorry Grantaire.” Enjolras spike quietly, as not to ruin the moment.

 

“We can talk about that in the morning. Right now, I want cuddles in bed.” Grantaire replied, finally lifting his head from Enjolras’ shoulder to give a small wink. Enjolras chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled upstairs towards their bedroom.

 

Tomorrow would be full of lengthy conversations, but right now, Enjolras didn’t care, because he had everything he needed in his arms.

 

_And if you're still breathing,_

_you're the lucky ones_

_'Cause most of us are heaving_

_through corrupted lungs_

 

 


End file.
